


Girl Trouble

by GhostofBeltanesPast



Series: Pining Fools [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Heart-to-Heart, Mutual Pining, solid life advice courtesy of Drautos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostofBeltanesPast/pseuds/GhostofBeltanesPast
Summary: The second part of the series I'm giving a working title of "Pining Fools".Reader may be convinced that Nyx won't ever love her, but Nyx has his own opinions about what's between the two of them...and unlike our dear Reader, he might just be willing to take action.(Rated M for a handful of swears)
Relationships: Nyx Ulric/Reader
Series: Pining Fools [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063547
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Girl Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own FFXV. The usual disclaimer applies.

“You gotta do _better_ , man,” Libertus grouses at him through a mouthful of food. It earns him a swat to the back of the head from Crowe -- which is _warranted_ , unlike the smack to the back of his _own_ head.   
  
“Hey!” Nyx grumbles, glaring at her.   
  
It garners nothing but a threatening wave of her hand...not that Nyx blames her. Either of them. After all, he knows they’re right.   
  
“Just tell her how you _feel_ already. Stop being a baby about it and take some responsibility for once.”   
  
He doesn’t like the way the words twist Crowe’s lips into an almost-sneer, but...he gets it.   
  
He gets it.   
  
He needs to talk about this.   
  
And if she’d just stop sneaking out in the mornings before he’s awake, he tells himself, he’d finally--   
  
That’s a lie, though.   
  
He runs a hand over his face, pausing to rub delicately at his sore jaw. It wasn’t great when he was just distracted in his personal life, fighting off thoughts of her at odd moments, locking that impossible wish behind every door he could...but getting distracted during training, and for something as stupid as wondering if she’d remembered an umbrella when it started to rain?...   
  
Well. The punch from Tredd was a good wake-up call, and no less than he deserves.   
  
Tomorrow, though -- tomorrow she’ll be back, like clockwork. And just like always, he’ll start with polite conversation, try to keep his distance, and be respectful of the distance she always puts between them.   
  
But it never lasts; he gives in to that hunger every time. The need to feel her warm, soft body against him, to make her pulse quicken and her body flush, to see just how much he can get away with.   
  
He wants her, so damn bad. More than he’s wanted anything that hasn’t already been taken away.   
  
She never stays.   
  
Of course not. She knows who he is, she knows where he came from. She knows he had family, once...all of them, gone. All because he wasn’t good enough.   
  
And in a way, he’s grateful. Grateful that he doesn’t have to risk losing her, too.   
  
Oh, she’ll leave someday. She’ll fall in love with someone, and then she’ll be too busy to keep taking pity on him like this. It’ll hurt when she leaves for the last time, and every time she leaves he wonders if this is it.   
  
He knows it has to happen, though. She’s got a life to live, and she deserves to be loved by someone who can keep her safe.   
  
That’s not him.   
  
He sinks deeper into the chair, folding one leg up until he can brace his foot against the seat, resting his arm on it.   
  
The sound of Crowe and Libertus bickering feels almost as distant as the TV that’s playing re-runs at low volume, but when he turns his head, he sees her dishes left to dry on the counter, emptied of the meals she cooked (for him, he almost dares to hope).   
  
It leaves a weight in his stomach, the kind of resignation worn by the condemned.   
  
He can’t keep living like this. This lie, this _dream_ , hopeless and painful and perfect because it’s _something_ even if he knows he doesn’t deserve it…   
  
Nyx scoffs at his own thoughts. “ _Pathetic,_ ” he mutters.   
  
Whatever they’d been talking about, Libertus takes that as a personal affront (like always) -- but the sick feeling eases, and he relaxes into the good-natured bickering once again.   
  
Tomorrow.   
  
He’ll do it tomorrow.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
He’s a coward.   
  
“Fucking... _Six!_ ”   
  
Nyx growls the words, hands fisted in his hair. He’d _meant_ to tell her, had wanted to, had _tried_ to...but every time he tried to get near the idea of this grey area between them, she shied away, dancing around topics with infuriating precision as he got more and more tongue-tied.   
  
He’s not a kid anymore, he’s in his thirties, for the gods’ sake! He’s too old for this shit…   
  
But he’s not, and he knows it.   
  
And just like always, he woke up to an empty bed, an empty apartment, and an emptiness in his chest.

He doesn’t get up, falling back against the mattress with a groan. Maybe...maybe this is for the best? Maybe it’s a sign?  
  
Nyx _tries_ not to lie to himself, though. He should still tell her. She deserves his honesty, at the very least, so she can make an informed choice. After everything she’s done for him, he owes her that much.   
  
Next time. He’ll try again next time, and the time after that, and however many times it takes…   
  
He owes it to her.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Two days of fruitless worry later, he gets something _useful_ to help with the whole stupid mess.   
  
Libertus had just given him the same shit as usual when he admitted he’d fucked up, and Crowe had scoffed at him and grabbed the bottle from his hands, draining it without even saying ‘thanks’...not that she ever does.   
  
She’s rude, abrasive, entirely ‘one of the boys’; he gets it, of course. He’s seen the way the other guys harassed her. It’s the military. They all knew it was gonna be an issue, as much bullshit machismo as they were bound to encounter. And she’s no princess -- she doesn’t want anyone fighting her battles for her, whether or not she’s likely to win.   
  
But she’s been fighting what seems like the whole world since she was just a kid. Nyx doesn’t begrudge her those habits, even if she doesn’t have to turn it on him or Libertus the way she still does.   
  
He loves them both -- they’re family, now. A broken, lost little family of misfits, bound together by a desperate desire to be even a tiny bit less alone.   
  
They’re not helpful when it comes to people problems, though, and he’s grateful to have some better help...or he will be, just as soon as he gets over the horrifying embarrassment of being called into Drautos’ office like a misbehaving child, called out in front of everyone else during afternoon training.   
  
It doesn’t help that Drautos leaves him standing at attention, shuffling papers on his desk for a painfully-long half a minute, before finally sitting back in his chair and staring Nyx down.   
  
“You going to tell me what’s wrong, or are you _aiming_ for a permanent post on the Gate Watch?” His expression twists scornfully. “I thought you got past this years ago. We don’t do remedial lessons here, and we don’t take charity cases.” The words are rough, mocking and harsh -- but the Captain’s like that, hard on the Glaives and hard on himself. Word has it the Crownsguard’s commanders are no different, anyway. Maybe it’s just the position.   
  
Nyx clenches his jaw, swallowing hard. It’s...hard to find an answer, and not just because Drautos has him on the defensive.   
  
That’s gotta be intentional, too.   
  
As he casts around for the words, looking for the right way to explain how things feel _right_ , almost, with her around, and how every time she leaves the apartment feels so empty he can barely stand it -- how to explain that she means something he doesn’t really have words for (a lie, he chides himself) -- _finally_ the Astrals take pity on him...or at least Drautos does.   
  
“ _Sit_ , Ulric,” he growls, rubbing at one temple as if to ease a headache.   
  
He does.   
  
Nyx knows there will still be questions, and he’ll still have to answer them...but as he sits, something in Drautos’ face softens ever-so-slightly, and he almost dares to hope that maybe he won’t have to explain the whole stupid ordeal and lay bare what a fool he’s been.   
  
Drautos sighs. “Just tell me you didn’t break the law or knock someone up. _Please_.”   
  
It earns him a sharp look, but Nyx can’t quite stifle the snort. “N, uh. No, sir. Definitely not.”   
  
He knows the question of ‘what, then,’ is coming; he strikes first. It’s easier that way, to at least pretend he’s in control. With a steadying breath, he continues. “It’s...there’s someone--”   
  
He cuts himself off. There’s no way he’s going to explain this in any more juvenile way than he has to. It feels ridiculous and immature enough already.   
  
“I’ve had some...difficulty with interpersonal relationships. One in particular. The steps to resolution are presently unclear, and a solution may not be possible.” It’s easier to do this like a report, the distant and impersonal words flowing off his tongue without such a struggle.   
  
Drautos raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t look like you were fighting with Libertus or Crowe.” His voice is cool, assessing; the sentence is laden with implication, though. They both know there are only two people he spends much time with outside of work and in private -- or there used to be only two.   
  
He crosses his legs. “It’s not a _fight_ …” He grimaces, finally admitting, “and it’s not with them.”   
  
There’s only so much of the questioning he can take, though, and Nyx knows he’s not getting out of the office until he’s come clean.   
  
“I met a girl,” he admits.   
  
He sits back in the chair, tilting his head back to examine the ceiling, just to have something to do.   
  
“I’m just not sure what to do about...things between us. What she wants to do. How to ask.”   
  
Drautos’ chair creaks, but he says nothing. After a few seconds, the scratch of a pen on paper picks up, sharp and precise like everything else the Captain does.   
  
When Nyx finally manages to drag his eyes back to meet the Captain’s, he isn’t even looking -- he’s filling out reports, expression somewhere between bored and disgusted.   
  
“So,” he says without looking up, “what’s been eating at you all this time has been _girl trouble_?”   
  
He can feel his face and neck start to heat. Nyx squeezes his eyes shut. Don’t say anything, he knows; don’t talk back, don’t kick up a fuss, there’s a _reason_ he said it like that and if it gets a rise out of you, he wins…   
  
His fingers clench around the arms of the chair. “My apologies, sir. I wasn’t aware we’d covered that in training.”   
  
_Shit_.   
  
Despite the sarcastic, insubordinate tone, Drautos doesn’t yell.   
  
Just puts down the pen carefully, and regards him steadily.   
  
And as he opens his mouth to get defensive again over the scrutiny, the Captain cuts him off.   
  
“Go _home_. Take the rest of the day, clean yourself up, and do something nice for her.” He waves a hand dismissively, turning back to his papers. “Take her flowers. Ask her on a date. Dress nicely -- _nicely_ , Ulric, not a fucking t-shirt, and _not_ your uniform.”  
  
The extra emphasis is more than a little insulting; does he really seem that clueless? He guesses he must.  
  
Nyx starts to respond, but before he can, Drautos continues.   
  
“--and _don’t_ ask her tonight. Whatever questions you have, wait until you’ve made an effort to show you’re sincere first. Got it?”

“Yes, sir!”  
  
Drautos scoffs lightly but waves him off again. “Dismissed.”   
  
And with that...suddenly, there’s an answer.   
  
The sudden relief leaves him weak in the knees once he reaches the hallway, sagging against the wall. He still feels like he shouldn’t have needed someone to point that out to him...but he did.   
  
All he can do now is move forward and be grateful.   
  
Just like always. Be grateful for what he has, that things aren’t worse, that he’s still here for another day. He’s lucky. It’s not fair, but he’s been lucky. And he’s grateful.   
  
He doesn’t deserve her...but he wants her, and if there’s even a chance, he wants her bad enough to try. No matter how horribly selfish it is of him.   
  
Nyx sighs, the sound shakier than he likes. “Better get to it, then…”   
  
It looks like he’s been given a new assignment, of sorts. And as long as he keeps thinking of it like that, he might just manage this.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So I'll be honest with y'all, I straight-up hated Drautos until I read some posts from a tumblr I need to go find again. Whoever they were, they were a big ol' Drautos stan, and their character analysis shed some light on him that...at least brought to the forefront how he very much fills a mentor role for Nyx and may have for Noctis as well (since he may have been the one to train Noctis in magic and warping). Even if I still don't like him much lol.
> 
> Anyway, since Nyx's dad was pretty definitely not in the picture by the time of the attack on Galahd, but seems to have been around as late as his late elementary/early teen years, it got me thinking that he may have attached to the importance of father figures and male role models but not had any help with romance and attraction -- and from Selena's letter we can surmise that he was something of a workaholic even before the attack, and given the state of his apartment and his general guilt and self-loathing in canon, I have a reeeeal hard time believing he's made serious attempts to pursue anyone, much less succeeded.
> 
> So I went the route of "maybe he's only had casual arrangements and doesn't know how to deal with girls".
> 
> /endjustification 
> 
> Also this is a working title, y'all, I'm terrible at titling things and my naming sense is godawful pls do not @ me


End file.
